There is a natural progression in life... At first we grow, stretch, become... We stand and fall and stand again. We lean on others for support and guidance. And learn to run on our own...
I faltered in my progression early on... I felt unsafe in a world in constant flux. I was victimized before I knew what that meant. And in an effort to avoid further victimization, I built walls, separated myself from true growth, and stagnated...
Learning to put myself back on the map was an excrutiatingly difficult thing to do... Daring to believe in myself. Trusting in others. Risking further falls as I once again began taking tentative steps. I have stumbled on my path... Often pausing for balance checks on uncertain legs. But with each new successful step, I can feel my confidence swelling within me, charging me with joy, desire, and an intense inner fire to continue taking steps. I feel myself stretching into a run, filling my lungs and exercising my heart as never before. ♥
This is my evolution.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Saturday, January 29, 2011
I am becoming me.
The shadows have swallowed all but the memory of the shell I once was...
A gesture. A look. An easy passing comment...
These things can pull me back into the memory of discontent;
I can feel the ghost of pain leaning close against my skin.
Breathing softly against my cheek...
But I am changed.
I will not be cajoled into dangerous reminiscence...
I am standing taller.
Looking others in the eyes.
I can smile. And laugh.
I am sharing more of myself because there is more of me to share...
And I am less afraid of losing myself in the process.
I stared into the mirror this afternoon with surprise.
Returning my awestruck glance was a face that radiated health.
Life!
The eyes watching mine glistened with excitement over having been discovered...
I am no longer captive to fears and insecurities.
I am becoming aquainted with strength and peace.
And the joys of love.
For the first time, I am starting to see myself as lovable.
It's a new world.
And I'm happy to be in it.
The shadows have swallowed all but the memory of the shell I once was...
A gesture. A look. An easy passing comment...
These things can pull me back into the memory of discontent;
I can feel the ghost of pain leaning close against my skin.
Breathing softly against my cheek...
But I am changed.
I will not be cajoled into dangerous reminiscence...
I am standing taller.
Looking others in the eyes.
I can smile. And laugh.
I am sharing more of myself because there is more of me to share...
And I am less afraid of losing myself in the process.
I stared into the mirror this afternoon with surprise.
Returning my awestruck glance was a face that radiated health.
Life!
The eyes watching mine glistened with excitement over having been discovered...
I am no longer captive to fears and insecurities.
I am becoming aquainted with strength and peace.
And the joys of love.
For the first time, I am starting to see myself as lovable.
It's a new world.
And I'm happy to be in it.
Living
Living is hard. Unpredictable. Full of ups and downs. Learning to live again after existing in mental anguish for so long is precarious and confusing... What's real? What's normal?? I feel exhaustion and lower moods with trepidation... Could a bout of depression be on its way? And yet, no... This is life. Living. Normalcy... How strange to feel unable to recognize the difference between disorder and normal...
Today, I'm told I am symptom free. I'm told that being symptom free, since there is no such thing as a perfect recovery, implies that I am no longer plagued each day with the chaos of my former existence. My disordered existence is no longer controlling my day; dictating everything...
Standing on the shores of recovery feels a lot like walking in the sand... Today I am on firm footing. :) I feel earth beneath my feet, and while water may sometimes lap at my ankles, I no longer feel like I'm in danger of being dragged to sea, crushed against the rocks. I feel movement beneath me. I have a healthy respect for the ocean; I know better than to turn my back. Today I can breathe. And laugh. Play. And love... ♥
I have had my last group therapy session. And I will be discharged from out patient on February 15th. I am not complacent. I will stretch and dance at the water's edge, enjoying my new found confidence and space. And I will continue to work as I've been taught. I will continue to hold to my limits. To push myself to do what is hard. Talk. Trust. Feel. These three words have been a beacon in the night for me... A mantra for life and the living. I know the darkness and despair that lurks in the shadows. I trust that something better awaits. :)
Today, I'm told I am symptom free. I'm told that being symptom free, since there is no such thing as a perfect recovery, implies that I am no longer plagued each day with the chaos of my former existence. My disordered existence is no longer controlling my day; dictating everything...
Standing on the shores of recovery feels a lot like walking in the sand... Today I am on firm footing. :) I feel earth beneath my feet, and while water may sometimes lap at my ankles, I no longer feel like I'm in danger of being dragged to sea, crushed against the rocks. I feel movement beneath me. I have a healthy respect for the ocean; I know better than to turn my back. Today I can breathe. And laugh. Play. And love... ♥
I have had my last group therapy session. And I will be discharged from out patient on February 15th. I am not complacent. I will stretch and dance at the water's edge, enjoying my new found confidence and space. And I will continue to work as I've been taught. I will continue to hold to my limits. To push myself to do what is hard. Talk. Trust. Feel. These three words have been a beacon in the night for me... A mantra for life and the living. I know the darkness and despair that lurks in the shadows. I trust that something better awaits. :)
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Holding a Candle
Shakespeare wrote, "Must I hold a candle to my shames?"
Therapy, journaling, recovery from an eating disorder... All of these things require us to hold a candle to those dark and secret shadows which instinct drives us to hide, even from ourselves. But without looking honestly at ourselves, our experiences, fears, doubts, dreams... We cannot hope to regain the sense of self which we misplaced along the way. Shining a candle does not, in my eyes, mean that we necessarily need to aim a spotlight at ourselves and broadcast any and every thing to the world... But it does mean being truly open to learning about oneself. Being honest with oneself. Willing to learn, live, think, and breathe differently.
In my own experience, it has been the things I am ashamed of that I most need to examine. Those are the things that I have attempted to bury through layers of depression and disordered eating. And while turning my gaze upon the shadows is painful, as the pain passes through me, it takes some of the shame with it. I have begun to recognize how many things which happened to me in the past continue to hold enormous power over me today because I have continued to carry the shame as my own. Talking about these thing, writing about them, sharing them has lessened their power because I was able to see that the shame belonging to these events was not mine to claim... The shame belongs to those that acted against the child that I was. The shame belongs to my abusers. Learning to set that down is not easy. But it is a crucial step which cannot be neglected. One cannot recover without doing so.
Candlelight is softer than pulsing flourescents. More forgiving than beams of light that would cut through the darkness. Examining those shameful shadows through the flickering light allows our brains to process bits at a time. We do not have to take it all in at once to see the picture and release the shame. We need only to look to begin to heal.
Therapy, journaling, recovery from an eating disorder... All of these things require us to hold a candle to those dark and secret shadows which instinct drives us to hide, even from ourselves. But without looking honestly at ourselves, our experiences, fears, doubts, dreams... We cannot hope to regain the sense of self which we misplaced along the way. Shining a candle does not, in my eyes, mean that we necessarily need to aim a spotlight at ourselves and broadcast any and every thing to the world... But it does mean being truly open to learning about oneself. Being honest with oneself. Willing to learn, live, think, and breathe differently.
In my own experience, it has been the things I am ashamed of that I most need to examine. Those are the things that I have attempted to bury through layers of depression and disordered eating. And while turning my gaze upon the shadows is painful, as the pain passes through me, it takes some of the shame with it. I have begun to recognize how many things which happened to me in the past continue to hold enormous power over me today because I have continued to carry the shame as my own. Talking about these thing, writing about them, sharing them has lessened their power because I was able to see that the shame belonging to these events was not mine to claim... The shame belongs to those that acted against the child that I was. The shame belongs to my abusers. Learning to set that down is not easy. But it is a crucial step which cannot be neglected. One cannot recover without doing so.
Candlelight is softer than pulsing flourescents. More forgiving than beams of light that would cut through the darkness. Examining those shameful shadows through the flickering light allows our brains to process bits at a time. We do not have to take it all in at once to see the picture and release the shame. We need only to look to begin to heal.
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